Back Talk
by Tres Mechante
Summary: A strange case, a sore back and a missed opportunity. It’s just another night at CSI. Response to an Improv Challenge at Unbound.


**Back Talk  
_By Très Méchante_**

**Summary:** A strange case, a sore back and a missed opportunity. It's just another night at CSI. Response to an Improv Challenge at Unbound.

**Disclosure: **Not mine. Not now. Not ever. Not stolen – merely borrowed.

**A/N:** Response to the Improv Challenge at Unbound. The first and last lines were provided. All I had to do was fill in the space between. Alas, the 1000 word limit has been exceeded.

**Warning:** Fluffy and Silly.

* * *

"Put your back into it."

Sara looked at Greg in shock. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm totally serious. That's exactly what you do. Well, you can put your front into it, if that's what revs your engine." He grinned at her confusion. "It's all the rage at, uh, certain types of parties. Not that I would know from personal experience. It's just something I've heard about."

She looked at the odd device. It reminded her of a rather shallow coffin standing on its end. Along one edge of the box was a control panel with four buttons and a switch. The inside was upholstered in faux leather, with nodules and ridges in clusters throughout the interior.

"I don't know, Greg. It doesn't look all that relaxing to me."

"I'm pretty sure relaxation is not the goal," he said with a playful leer.

Grissom walked into the room at that moment. "Greg, if you wanted to work a decomp solo, all you had to do was ask."

Sara hid her smile when Greg paled. "I was just teasing. Hey, you know that, right, Sara?"

"He didn't mean anything by it, Grissom. Greg was just explaining to me what this…thing is," she said, indicating the strange device they'd found in the victim's bedroom.

Grissom came closer and examined the interior. He shone his maglight around the interior and suddenly froze.

Sara and Greg looked at each other.

Sara moved closer, trying to figure out what he had seen. "What do –?"

Without a word, Grissom turned and sprinted from the room. "David!"

By the time they caught up with him in the driveway, he was on the way back to the house.

"The box was upright when you found it?" he asked. "You didn't move it."

"Right. Just like you saw." Sara frowned. "What exactly did you see?"

"The vic had odd marks on his cheek. It's possible they came from the interior of that box. We need to get it back to the lab." He pulled out his cell phone and wandered back to where the body had been found.

A few minutes later, Grissom joined them in the hallway. "Are you almost done here?"

"Pretty much," said Greg. "Just packing up."

"Good. I need you to wait for the truck and then take what I collected back to the lab with you."

"Aren't you coming with us?"

"I'll catch up with you later. I have to meet Warrick and Brass." Grissom left without another word.

When he was sure Grissom was gone, Greg waggled his eyebrows at Sara. "Want to give the box a try? Or maybe I should climb in– relieve a little tension."

"Want to explain to Grissom how evidence was contaminated?" she shot back.

"Uh…that would be a no."

By the time they had finished packing up, the truck arrived to take the box back to the lab.

Near the end of shift, Sara went looking for Grissom. She literally bumped into him coming out of trace.

He looked a little worse for wear, she thought. "Hey. You okay?"

"Fine. It's nothing. Where are we on the Zalusky case?" He started down the hall toward the break room, albeit moving a little awkwardly.

"Bruce Zalusky, 46, was smothered to death by his wife. Seems he was addicted to sex toys of every description. She disapproved. He promised to stop. She was out of town for a few days, came home early and found he'd broken his promise. Death ensued."

Grissom cocked his head. "Speculation?"

"Nope. She turned herself in. As a matter of fact, she was waiting for us with her lawyer when we got back." Sara shook her head in disbelief. "It all checks out. She caught him while he was in the box and that was that. She upended the box to get him out of it and dragged him out of the bedroom – away from the scene of his crime."

"Mr. Zalusky was at least six feet tall, maybe 230 pounds. How big is his wife?"

"About five-foot-five. Why?"

"Well…his face was pressed pretty hard into the lining of that box for the marks to be that well defined. Was he drugged or incapacitated in some way."

"Turns out Mrs. Zalusky is a competitive weightlifter. She had no trouble subduing Mr. Zalusky."

Grissom stared at Sara for a moment before uttering a slightly strangled "Oh."

Warrick poked his head in the room. "You okay, Grissom? Need a ride to the doctor?"

"Doctor? What happened?" Sara ran her eyes over Grissom, looking for any obvious injuries.

"Adventures in evidence gathering," grinned Warrick. "He over-balanced on a ladder. Good thing the sofa broke his fall."

"No wonder you're moving like an old man," she said.

"Thanks for your concern," he said, irritation in his voice. "I told you, I'm fine. And no, Warrick, I don't need a doctor."

Warrick held up his hands in surrender. "At the very least you should see about a massage or something to help with the stiffness," he advised as he walked away.

Sara smiled gently. "He's right, you know."

Grissom ignored her and studied the notices on the bulletin board. Her 'old man' comment still stung, although he knew she hadn't meant anything by it.

"Um…you know, since the Zalusky case is wrapped up, you could use that massage box thing," she said, grinning.

"I'll pass, thank you," he said. He offered her a small grin. "I appreciate your concern."

She hesitated briefly. "Just so you know, if you're interested, I could…um…I give a pretty good massage." She shrugged, clearly a nervous gesture.

All he could do was stare at her, his mind whirling with possibilities – all of them leading where he wasn't ready to go.

Sara blushed under his intense scrutiny and offered a quiet goodbye as she left the room. As so often happened, she'd left him speechless.

He stepped into the corridor and watched her walk away. Grissom let out the breath he had been holding. Clearly he was an idiot. Now she was going to think…he didn't know what she was going to think. He could have said something. 'Thank you, but no' would have worked.

Or he could have said yes. He let that thought linger for a moment, savoring the little frisson of anticipation that trickled along his spine.

What if he'd said yes? Would the world have come to an end? Well, his world, possibly.

He leaned against the door jam, head bowed. For one brief moment he wanted to believe that if the opportunity arose, if Sara came back, he would take her up on her offer.

He ran through several possible ways to tell her how much her offer meant to him, how desperately he wanted to accept.

He looked in the direction Sara had disappeared. Unable to resist, he said the words aloud. "I'd give just about anything if you would rub my back," he murmured. "I'd even return the favor if you want me to."

Grissom was startled by the sound of something falling behind him. Turning around he saw Greg, broken coffee mug at his feet.

Greg stared at Grissom, a slightly panicked look on his face. "What did you say?"

-30-


End file.
